


In Another Light

by kailiff



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Slow Burn, Trans Character, headcanons and self-projection: the fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kailiff/pseuds/kailiff
Summary: Demyx knew that college wouldn't be easy. He's managed to make it through his first year unscathed, but Sophomore year only gets more complicated when he's trying to juggle his roommate's midnight pancake cravings, a major that's lost its spark, and the blue-haired snob he's forced to partner with for a project. He learns that to make the best of life you sometimes have to look at things a little differently.Zemyx.





	1. if you ever frame your mind

**Author's Note:**

> hello its been a long time lmao i started writing this back in 2015 but life has gotten in the way a bit. this year i wanted to really buckle down and try my best to actually write even if its hard to find the motivation. im actually balancing this fic with an original novel so i'm not sure when the next chapter will be out, but i've put a lot of my heart into this story so i really hope you like what i've got so far!!!!
> 
> this fic is for the friends i've made through zemyx. you've become so important to me in the last few years and uhh im love you so very much ;_;
> 
> ALSO if anyone has any constructive criticism, or if theres anything that doesnt make sense please let me know!! my fics arent beta-ed so i only have my own proofreading to go off of. thank you!!!! and happy zemyx day!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Demyx had always liked the sound of rain when he slept. He’d always liked the pitter-patter on the roof at home, the tapping of rain on the window of his dorm room, and the faraway sound of rain on the pavement from his place up on the third floor. It was soothing, repetitive. It reminded him that the world continued to spin, and cycle, and change, even when he was asleep. What he did not like, however, was the whispering behind him, and the insistent poking and nudging.

“Hey, Dem. Hey, buddy, wake up. Dem. Demyx. Deeeeemmmmmm.”  

Groaning, Demyx took his pillow and flopped it over his head. “I have a morning class, Ax, you know this,” he mumbled.

Axel obviously wasn’t impressed. “Pancakes wait for no one,” he said.

Demyx wasn’t going to win this battle, and not because of the pancakes. Axel was crafty. He had tricks up his sleeve, and if he had to, he was going to physically drag Demyx out of bed and haul him like a sack of potatoes to go get pancakes. Demyx didn’t want to take the chance. He lifted his pillow and scrunched his face at his phone. Three in the morning. Great.

“What paper are you putting off this time?” he asked, blinking bleary-eyed at his roommate and sitting up. The room was pitch-dark, save for a small bit of light from the streetlamps in the parking lot pouring dimly in through the window. Axel offered a chummy smile, though Demyx had to squint to see it.

“Whoooooooo says I was procrastinating?” He shot him finger guns.

Demyx just stared at him. “You always get midnight pancake cravings when you procrastinate,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Is it that Art History class? I think I remember you hating that one.” He got up and stretched, nose scrunching, and turned on the light. Bad idea, too bright. He turned off the light. And now his eyes had gotten un-used to the dark, so that was wonderful. His pants _had_ to be somewhere on the floor, right?

“Maybe I have trouble remembering what artist names go with which paintings, and maybe I have a twenty minute presentation due on Monday, but that’s entirely unrelated,” Axel replied helpfully, fake laughing and waving his hand around as if that emphasized his point. He was sitting on the ground in front of Demyx’s bed, already dressed. Or about as dressed as he usually was. Pajamas as clothes were common at college. How long had he been sitting there before Demyx actually woke up?

“That’s what you get for joining a 300-level class when you’re not even an art major,” Demyx retorted, pulling on some Floor Pants. He stifled a yawn.

“Excuse me, graphic design is art, thank you very much,” Axel groused. “And you’re telling me you can recite the full Latin names of like, every sea creature? I don’t know the Latin name of _any_ sea creatures.” Demyx could practically hear the eye roll.

“It’s three in the morning, we are not going over this,” Demyx said, shuffling around, trying to find the sneakers he'd haphazardly kicked off earlier when he'd gotten back from his last class. He shoved them on and threw on an oversized hoodie, “Blondie” displayed proudly on the back over a number 9—an old, worn-out thing from his softball days in high school. He turned to Axel, looking at him expectantly. Axel hauled himself off the ground and they left.

Minnie's Diner, open twenty-four hours a day, was the usual spot for midnight pancake cravings, munchies, breakfast for dinner, or just a good old-fashioned bacon n’ eggs whenever the hell you felt like it. It was only a block away from campus, so Demyx didn’t really understand why Axel needed to wake him up every time he wanted pancakes. He definitely could have gotten there and back all by himself. Was it loneliness? Malevolence? Whatever it was, Demyx usually went anyway since he liked pancakes, and occasionally the company.

Plus it was raining still, just a little, and the asphalt smelled like earth. The ebbing rain hit the ground softly as it dripped from trees, and under the scattered lights of town the wet street sparkled. It was the kind of misty night that made him feel sorta like he wouldn’t question it if he saw a centaur or something, far away and skewed just beyond hazy streetlights.

The two of them sat down in the first booth they saw, sinking into the red, acrylic cushions. Demyx really liked the place. Semi-authentic 50's-style diner with black and white checker and everything. The wait staff wore these little paper hats. There was even a jukebox in the corner, which the two of them had had their fair share of fun with. It was silent for now, appropriate given the hour, but Demyx had an itch to put on some Everly Brothers or something. Though, maybe that would just lull him back to sleep.

Immediately they saw a familiar head of blond make its way over to their table, menus in hand. “Good morning,” Namine greeted, smiling weakly. She poured them each a glass of water.

Demyx groaned, flopping over into the crook of his elbow. “I can't tell if it's too late or too early. How did they rope you into hours like this, Nami?”

“Art supplies are expensive,” she replied simply, and looked off into the middle distance. “I should never have bought those paints.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Demyx said, offering her a sympathetic smile.

“It’s alright,” she said. “Xion’s coming by before class to cheer me on. Well, I’ll be back in a few.”  She then disappeared through a swinging door.

Demyx got to work looking at the menu. To be honest, he came for pancakes, but he wasn’t really in much of a pancake-y mood. Would that be considered treason? He looked up at Axel who was staring intently at his menu, most likely trying to decide if he wanted a short or tall stack. Over Axel’s shoulder, Demyx caught a bright flash of blue.

On the far side of the diner in a corner booth sat a person around their age, nose stuffed in an impressively thick paperback. Demyx actually had no idea how he hadn't noticed him at first, since his hair was dyed electric blue, bangs kept out of his face with a barette. Perhaps another midnight pancake run? Demyx couldn’t really think of very many reasons someone would choose to stay up this late at a diner when they could be in their room asleep.

Eventually, Namine came out with a coffee cup and placed it in front of the blue guy, who only glanced up at her before returning to his book with a stern expression. He took a pencil tucked behind his ear and scribbled something in the book.

Namine came back over to Axel and Demyx and stood in front of their table, hand on her hip. “Are you two ready to order?” she asked, voice soft. “Though I think I can already guess what it’s going to be.”

“A short stack of your finest pancakes, madam,” Axel said, handing her the menu with a flourish and as much of a bow as the booth would allow. She took it with a smile and turned to Demyx.

“Corned beef hash and toast,” he told her, ignoring Axel's insulted protests about how this was a _pancake run_ and he was supposed to be getting _pancakes_. “I need brain energy since some clown woke me up at ass o’clock.”

She laughed softly at that and took his menu, promising to return soon with their food.

“Since you’re already up at ‘ass o’ clock’ as you put it, you can just take this as an excuse to work on homework when we get back,” Axel suggested. “You know, all the stuff you’re also procrastinating.”

“Ha, yeah right,” Demyx snorted.

“Aww, keep me company,” Axel said, frowning. “Save me from tearing all my hair out.”

“You mean, distract you? Nah,” Demyx said. “I’m going to curl up into a little ball and sleep until spring comes.”

Ignoring Axel’s dramatic ‘Noooooooo,’ Demyx peeked back to the blue guy, who dug around a bag hidden by the table and pulled out a highlighter. Maybe Demyx was a weirdo who was people-watching but there wasn’t exactly a ton to do to bide his time until food arrived. Maybe they could have asked for crayons and a kid’s menu, played some hangman. Maybe he could have busied himself studying the cracks in the dessert menu’s lamination, or the nutrition facts label on the ketchup. Maybe he could have brought his phone.

Yawning, Axel leaned back on his seat, drumming his fingers on the table. He leveled Demyx with a lazy, low-lidded grin. Demyx raised a brow at him.

“So, you gonna tell me what’s soooo interesting, or am I gonna have to embarrass both of us by looking over obnoxiously?” Axel asked. “Answer wisely.”

Demyx kept his gaze steady with Axel’s. First of all, he was already obnoxious, but the man could smell fear. Chewing on his lower lip, Demyx deliberated on possible outcomes. Either way, Axel would to crane his neck over his shoulder in the most obvious way possible. They were the only people in the diner, and unless Blue Guy was really that absorbed in his book, it was pretty much a given he would notice and be very weirded out.

But then again, Demyx had never seen the kid before and would likely never see him again, so it couldn’t be that bad.

“Okay, but you have to resist the temptation to look,” Demyx replied.

“At this point I’m too scared to look in case it’s a monster.”

“You got me, Ax, it’s a monster, and I’ve been paralyzed with fear since the moment I noticed it,” he said.

Before he could blink, Axel turned around to catch a glimpse at the guy in the corner. When he turned back he had the most shit-eatingest grin Demyx had ever seen. “Dem, my man,” he said. “My dude.”

“Don’t you dare,” Demyx warned, pointing a finger directly in Axel’s face. It was easily waved away.

“First of all, I’m disappointed you would lie to me, Demyx,” Axel said, frowning seriously, though this was just a ruse to cover up his grin. “That’s not a monster. Au contraire, that’s a hot guy.”

Demyx dragged his hands down his face and groaned. “Oh my god, this is not happening.”

“Say the word and this guy,” Axel paused to point at himself with both thumbs, “will be your ultimate wingman.” He leaned on the table with his chin in his hand and looked at Demyx as if this was the most unquestionable, once-in-a-lifetime deal he would ever get.

“Axel, it’s three in the morning and we’re in a family diner,” Demyx argued, voice hushed. “No wingmanning will be occurring tonight, thank you.”

Axel picked up the salt shaker and began pouring salt onto the table. “Just like, go and talk to him,” he said, drawing shapes in the salt. “You’re cute, he’ll love it.”

“I’m not gonna hit on some random stranger I see in a diner in the middle of the night,” Demyx said, sitting back and taking a sip of his water. “It’s late, I’m tired, I just want to get my food and leave, thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck, playing with his already messed up bedhead. It was getting long.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Axel rolled his eyes. He formed the salt into a smiley face. “Most likely he turns you down and then you never see him again. So, nothing to worry about.”

Fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve, Demyx sighed. “Or I could not, and then I never see him again, and nothing embarrassing happens for me to remember five years from now,” he said. “Besides, I don’t think we’d get along. He looks kinda… serious.”

“I dunno about that.” Axel destroyed the smiley face by drawing spirals through it. “You both have stupid-looking hair. You could bond over that.”

“I don’t want to hear anything about stupid hair from some Knuckles the Echidna lookin’ motherfucker.”

Axel sputtered at that so hard he scattered the salt everywhere. This conversation was just going in circles. Thankfully, Namine saved him by returning with their food. She glanced at the salt all over the table and frowned, but said nothing. Axel was satiated, distracted by steaming, fluffy pancakes. He poured syrup all over them until they were soggy, and Demyx was glad he went with the hash.

Food gave the conversation room to breathe, and Demyx almost sighed aloud in relief when the blue guy collected his things and left. Demyx was doing his hardest to pay attention to his meal, but when he heard the familiar chime on the door and the sound of an umbrella opening, he looked up at Axel and saw a stupid grin on his face.

“Looks like you won’t be taking that nerd’s lunch money today,” Axel said.

“Yeah, yeah. Yuk it up,” Demyx replied. It was way past too early for any of this. “Try to control yourself in public, you animal.”

“Owwie, that hurts my feelings, Demmy.” Axel stuck out his lip, faking a pout.

Demyx threw a balled-up napkin at his face. “I hope you die in a terrible accident.”

 

* * *

 

 

Work was slow on Tuesdays.

It was a school day, so anyone who trickled in was usually older, or else a local high schooler or college student on break between classes. Not many people came into the music store, Arpeggio, that day. The only people who had come by was a small group of high schoolers, who came in at some point when Demyx was digging around a box behind the counter and camped over by the metal section, and a middle-aged man who came looking for some top 40's single for his granddaughter before leaving with his purchase. Other than that, not a one.

Arpeggio didn't just sell music. There were a few displays up front carrying various knick-knacks: buttons, magnets, bobble-heads, posters, some nerdy merchandise. One wall stretched full of tshirts ranging from band shirts to cartoons to video games. The speakers played whatever Demyx's phone had on shuffle, which ended up being mostly classic rock that day, although some days it waned more on the indie-pop side of the spectrum, and other days it was jazz. He was the only employee in the store at the moment, not that they needed anyone else. Larx was on her half-hour, which left Demyx to slump in his seat behind the counter with his feet up.

Demyx didn't have any classes that day, but when he was able he unearthed some textbook from his bag and skimmed through a couple pages, forgetting entirely what was on the syllabus, until his eyes glazed over. Finals were coming up soon, but Demyx was determined to not do anything at all until the weekend of, when he would panic and stay up for 72 hours straight cramming until his eyes bled. No one ever said he was a wise man.

He was getting to quite an exciting bit in what was supposed to be lit homework but ended up being issue #6 of a random comic book he’d grabbed from the other end of the store, when the cow bell over the door sounded. He didn't shift his gaze from the book to greet the new customer, but he put a hand up in a lack-luster attempt at a wave. Coulda just been another teenager joining the group that still hadn't moved from the corner. At some point they had started up an out-of-tune, creaky whisper-yelled rendition of _Down With the Sickness_ , and his role as token retail worker stopped him from rolling his eyes and mumbling a “really?”

A few seconds after the cowbell stopped clanging, someone cleared their throat. There was his cue.

Demyx lifted his head to glance up after placing his book and feet down, customer service smile already plastered on. The vaguely familiar head of bright blue he saw was not what he expected in the least, and he stood up straight.

“U-uh, hey, welcome, anything I can help you with?” he asked, slamming his hand down on the counter a bit harder than he had wanted. Why did he do that?

Blue looked him up and down before finally settling his gaze on Demyx’s face, eyes bored and disapproving. Or maybe he just always looked that grumpy.  “No,” he said flatly, flipping his fringe out of his eyes. It fell back into place immediately, and he continued into the store, toward the vinyls.

Uh, what?

A minute later, Blue walked back up to the counter and placed a record on it. Demyx had been sitting there waiting for him in a fog of confusion, trying to parse what had happened. He looked down at the record, a used copy of Frank Sinatra’s _Come Dance With Me!_ , and then back up to his wonderful customer. Huh. Demyx wouldn’t have pegged him as a jazz fan, but he supposed anyone could be a fan of Sinatra. Most people would probably look at Demyx’s soft mohawk and never once assume that he sometimes listened to Baroque choral music when he felt like thinking deep thoughts.

Blue's hands gripped the tattered strap of the messenger bag slung over his shoulder and Demyx swore the kid might have even growled, but that was probably just his imagination.

“Will that be all?” Demyx asked, scanning the record and placing it in a plastic bag, smiling sugar-sweet. He considered fluttering his eyelashes to really sell it.

Blue hummed briefly, tapping his chin in thought. “I’ve got a question for you. You were hired here to work, weren’t you?”

Demyx stared at him, stunned. “I, excuse me?” he sputtered.

“Maybe you can take some initiative and find work to do when things are slow instead of lounging around reading comics.”

The high schoolers craned their necks around to stare. Demyx only gawked. The gears in his head had stopped turning entirely.

“What? Upset that I pointed out your laziness on the clock?” Blue huffed. “Anyway, that’s all.” He put his money down on the counter and turned to leave.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Demyx blurted, then slapped a hand over his mouth. Blue whirled around, eyes wide.

At that moment, the cow bell over the door clanged, and Larxene, his manager, stood in the doorway looking just as shocked as they did. The song on the overhead speakers came to an end and the store was washed in silence for an eternity of seconds before the next song started up. She thumped over to the counter, her heavy combat boots echoing through the store.

“I know you did not just say that to a customer,” she said, staring Demyx down and pointing a finger right in his face. She turned towards Blue and began apologizing and offering a free keychain or candy or something. He just glared at Demyx and left with his record.

Larxene stood in silence for a moment before clambering around the counter. “What the hell was that?” she asked, eyes narrowed and arms crossed like she was holding herself back. “Is there a reason you’re cussing out customers?”

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same if some guy was shit talking you to your face for no reason,” he said, and plopped down on his seat. He pushed the abandoned comic away. Stupid thing had gotten him in trouble. “I didn’t even do anything and that guy was talking to me like I was his number one fuckin’ enemy.”

She just sighed loudly and leaned back on the counter. “You’re right, and I’d do even worse,” she said. “But that doesn’t excuse what you said. You can think it all you want, but it’s bad for business to cuss out even the bad customers.”

Larxene looked around the store at the near-nothingness all around them. She turned to the high schoolers, still staring in a huddle from the metal section. “Move along, nothing to see here.” Shuttering, Larxene mumbled under her breath, “Ugh, youths.”

 “You’d probably castrate the poor bastard,” Demyx said. She flashed a catty grin, but Demyx knew she was still angry and he was still in trouble.

 

* * *

 

 

Demyx was in trouble. The weekend of finals had finally snuck up on him, or rather, that was one way of putting it. More like he had, as predicted, allowed the work to build up after spending all his time playing guitar and video games and watching clips of How It’s Made whenever he told himself it was time to study. He found himself up to his armpits in cramming and essays. All the extra paper he had in his 5-subject notebook was ripped out and turned into makeshift index cards, and if he didn’t have Axel, who at the very least procrastinated only slightly less than he did, to get him every few hours or so to stretch and get something to eat, he was sure he would have died.

It wasn’t too horribly late yet, the sun had only just set if he remembered correctly. Or maybe not, since when he glanced at the corner of his laptop screen it was already past 10 pm.

His laptop sat in front of him on his desk, the top of which generally acted as a dresser most days. Whatever was on top of it before finals weekend had been hastily shoved onto the floor to mix with the dirty clothes, chip wrappers, and other miscellaneous detritus around his feet. And on that laptop was a coffee-fueled Chem paper that Demyx frankly couldn’t tell heads or tails of, because he’d written it in a trance.

Demyx wasn’t entirely sure if he should just submit this travesty and at least get partial credit, or actually go find a student tutor at the library to help him unspool whatever word puzzle he’d written down.  He couldn’t even tell what he was talking about in it. He mentioned “samples” at some point, but never actually brought up said samples again. And he couldn’t ask Axel, who was useless in this situation. As an art student he didn’t even have to take Chemistry if he didn’t want to, choosing instead to take Astronomy last year for his Gen Ed science credits—a class that, from what Demyx had heard, amounted to sleeping through a droning lecture in a dark lecture hall and answering multiple-choice questions. Questions like, “The sun is a floating ball of what?” and knowing right off the bat that the answer couldn’t possibly be “A) Five-alarm chili.”

So, maybe he should try a tutor just in case.

Was the library even open this late?

Instead of worrying about that, he shoved his keys, ID, and phone in his pockets, his feet into untied winter boots, ear buds in his ears, and threw on his too-big hoodie. For his own health it was a binderless weekend, but layers and a sports bra would work just fine in the meantime. He grabbed his laptop and propelled himself out the door and into the frozen college tundra, where snow was piling up and the sidewalks hadn’t been sprinkled with rock salt yet. In the dark, the snow-covered quad looked like a wasteland.

A five minute trudge through slush later found him at the library entrance, where he stamped his feet on an already snow-soaked mat, which was marked on all sides with wet floor signs. The library was full to bursting, the exact opposite of its usual state on Sunday nights, but that was only to be expected.

Though he had never been there before, Demyx recalled the general place to find tutors was on the third floor, and he certainly did not want to use the stairs if he didn’t have to, so he walked along the walls until he found the elevator and pressed the button. The old thing squeaked as it came down to meet him—a relic of decades past, with musty, stale citrus-scented orange and brown carpet lining the walls. It felt like the kind of elevator someone could get murdered in if it was the 70’s.

In the corner of the third floor, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of dusty newspaper archives, was a cluster of offices and study rooms with a sign outside pointing towards them labeled “student tutors.” That was probably where the tutors were. The problem, however, was that there was also a line. The line stretched out beyond the main door of the cluster and bent around past several rows of shelves. A small sitting area sat in the middle of the room, which also happened to be swamped with people staring at essays as if their lives were ending.

As he slid into line, Demyx briefly wondered how much student tutors made before shaking that idea out of his head. He was definitely not cut out to be a tutor.

After a few minutes in line, a hand tapped Demyx on the shoulder. “Look who it is,” said a voice behind him. Turning around, he first saw a black and gray striped beanie, then golden locks peeking out from beneath it, then finally, Roxas.

“I figured I had to come here at some point,” Demyx said, pulling out an earbud. “Thank god you’re here. Maybe you can help me if this line never moves.”

“What subject is it?”

“Chem.”

Roxas made a face. “Not really my strong suit,” he admitted.

“It’s Chem 110, though,” Demyx said, frowning. “That’s like, one of the easy ones.”

Roxas took off his hat and fussed with his hair. His nose was still red from the cold, and he wore a pair of thick-rimmed glasses he really only wore when he was too exhausted for contacts. “So?” he asked. “Science isn’t exactly my thing.”

“Computer science,” Demyx retorted, as if that would make his point.

“I hate to break it to you, Dem, but CompSci and Chem aren’t the same,” Roxas replied. Then he smiled and patted the bag slung over his shoulder. “But I could take a crack at it if you want to take a look at my Medieval Lit essay.”

“Very tempting, Roxas,” Demyx said, rolling his eyes. “But I don’t think you want me anywhere near it.”

Roxas snorted. “Right, I forgot you never learned how to read.”

“Hey!”

The line had moved up several feet, and Demyx resisted the urge to look at the time. How many tutors were in there, anyway? The sitting area was still crawling with desperate students shuffling through notes and flashcards, and even the bean bag chairs laid out on the other side of the shelves were all occupied.

Demyx sighed and took his other ear bud out, cramming them in his jacket pocket. “So, why are you even here with a Lit essay, anyway?” he asked. “I thought you were good at Lit.”

“Uh, I wanna make sure I get a good grade?” Roxas replied. “Not everyone only comes here when they’re desperate to not look like an ass.”

“Stop bullying me,” Demyx whined, hugging his laptop to his chest. This earned him a snort and a shove.

After what felt like several millennia, they neared the door. If they had to wait much longer than that, they might have dissipated into dust and floated off, joining the centuries-old ghosts haunting the stacks, or the bats that lived up in the fourth floor somewhere. Demyx had once seen a bat the previous semester when he’d come looking for research project refs, because of course classes at a school this old still required actual physical books in works cited lists. People always associated owls with books and libraries, but bats seemed to really like it there.

A kid with large bags under her eyes walked out, trying to stuff papers back into the pockets of a notebook. She looked like she was going to cry. And Demyx was next.

“Next,” called a voice. Then Demyx looked at the source of the voice and froze. His heart sunk down into his stomach.

Sitting at a desk a few feet from the door, was Little Boy Blue.

“You!” Demyx pointed a finger right at him, and nearly lost his grip on his laptop. He scrambled to keep it pressed to his chest.

Blue watched him for a few seconds, eyebrow raised. “Me,” he said. “Now, if you don’t need help, then step out of the doorway and let the next person in.” He looked at Roxas.

Roxas peered up at Demyx.

“You don’t… remember me?” Demyx asked, eyes narrowing.

With a sigh, Blue leaned his head in his hand, elbow on the desk. “Should I?”

Oh. Oh, of course. This little asshole clearly couldn’t remember all the people he’d humiliated, obviously there were just too many. It was like picking a face out of a crowd. But Demyx remembered. He’d got him in trouble at work, and Demyx had almost pushed that little hiccup out of his memory, but sitting right here was the harbinger of his humiliation. He would probably take one look at Demyx’s paper and laugh, and then post flyers on all the doors and bulletin boards on campus about how much of an idiot he was.

Unless he was just being coy, in which case, Demyx could play his game.

“Uhh, nevermind, can you help with my Chem paper?” …Or not. Maybe all the people staring at them and a paper worth 30% his grade were a little more important. He didn’t want to look around to see just how many people there were.

Blue just watched him for a moment before leaning back in his chair. “Come here. What do you need help with?”

Demyx sat down in the chair next to him and opened his laptop on the desk. “Uh, everything. This is my Chem paper. I don’t even remember writing it, to be honest.” Okay, maybe admitting that was embarrassing. Perhaps he shouldn’t have conceded so quickly.

Blue leaned forward and started scrolling through the paper as Demyx looked anywhere else. He clicked his tongue.

“Well, you’re right, it doesn’t make much sense, and it’s not even in the right format,” he said.

“Oh no,” Demyx said, wringing his hands together nervously. “Are you a Chem major?”

Still staring at the screen, Blue took a second to reply. “No, but I’m familiar with it.” He squinted at the words Demyx had written like they were a foreign language. “Did you even go to class?”

“Uh,” Demyx hesitated. He stared down at the floor. “Well, technically, I was there, yes.”

 It was only then that Blue turned to look at him, hollow disbelief written across his face. He took a deep breath. “Okay, listen, I can only help you so much. I can’t write your paper for you. If you brought your syllabus I can probably help you review, but you can’t base a paper off of an experiment you never did.” He brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath. “Do you have a TA or anyone?”

 “Yeah, but I dunno if I can talk to that guy,” Demyx answered, shrugging. “He’s kinda… weird.”

 “Ah, yes, Vexen,” Blue Guy said, rolling his eyes. He picked at his nails, chipping away black nail polish. “I’m not surprised. That one tends to get a bit intense.”

“In that case, can you just help me review?” Demyx asked, reaching for his laptop so he could pull up the class page. “So I can at least get some of the written final right.”

“Fine.” Blue Guy sighed, and began going over what was on the uploaded slides for a while, until the library lights started flicking off and they realized just how late it really was. Unfortunately, Demyx would still have to stay up for further cramming, but at least he had a cheat sheet to bore into his brain before his Chem final.

“Name?” Blue asked.

“Huh?” Demyx said. Blue just looked at him.

“Your name?” he repeated, somewhat impatiently. “For the slip?”

 He was holding a small slip of paper. Right, when you go to the tutor you fill out a slip so the professor knows you came, and then you get extra credit. It was a wonder Demyx hadn’t come earlier. He really could use that extra credit.

The slip already had his tutor’s name written out.

Zexion.

“Uh, it’s Demyx,” he said, fidgeting with the cuff of his sleeve. A nervous habit. “Sorry, I haven’t come here before so I forgot that was a thing.”

Zexion jotted it down and handed him the slip. “From the state of that paper, maybe you should come more often.”

Demyx opened his mouth as if to say something, but whatever it was died on his tongue. He knew it; this guy thought he was an idiot. But Demyx just frowned and collected his laptop.

When he had walked back out the door, he noticed Roxas was gone. Likely already been helped and left the premises, though many students still crowded around tables and printers. Demyx slumped against the wall of the elevator and stared at his blurry reflection in the door, trying not to smell the stale cleaner. He just wanted finals to be over.


	2. rather bleed than settle for less

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2 finally!!!! while ch1 was an introductory chapter, gears are finally starting to turn. ch2 was sitting mostly finished for a few weeks but todays trailer got me motivated enough to refine it enough to post. cant believe zemyx is finally canon
> 
> again, my work is not beta-ed so if theres any big glaring mistakes or anything that doesnt make sense, please let me know lmao

Rain ran slick over the sidewalk, making Demyx regret wearing chucks. The weather had warmed up just enough for the most of the snow to melt, which was a little odd for mid-January. It was still cold as hell, though. He stuck his hands in his pockets and burrowed deeper into his jacket. It’d already been nearly two years since he moved here, but he still wasn’t used to this weather.

Winter break had just ended, and as much as Demyx loved to do nothing all day and eat his mom’s cooking, his family lived in the middle of nowhere, and getting anywhere at all required driving. Axel had yet to return, so in the meantime he might as well do something a little productive, right?

So Demyx was on his way to a local hole-in-the-wall bookstore to see if he could get any of his books for cheap. No way was he paying full price in the campus bookstore if he could help it. In a mid-sized college town like Hallow Bastion, there were a few book stores to choose from, but the one closest to campus was called Dear Diary. It was tucked away between a noodle restaurant and a store that just sold useless and expensive knick-knacks, all three in a big, worn red-brick building that was far older than anyone in town.

Decals of holly leaves, snowmen, and dreidels decorated the door and windows of Dear Diary, surrounding a “Happy Holidays!” which hadn’t been taken down yet despite the new year. The inside of the bookstore was just as deserted as the rest of town, silence only breaking when the door opened with a chime. There wasn’t even a person behind the counter. Demyx entered slowly, almost reverently, as if even his footsteps on the faded carpet tore through the silence too much.

He wandered around the store, scanning signs overhead. Pottery, figures, and old stuffed animals lined the tops of the shelves. Definitely not the worst decorations he’d seen in town—a breakfast place down the street had egg beaters hanging from the ceiling. And then Demyx stumbled into a step stool and fell to the ground.

“Are you oka—oh.”

Demyx looked up—or maybe down, since he had landed on his back—to the source of the voice and rubbed his shoulder. That would leave a nasty bruise later. All he saw was Zexion peering down at him from three shelves away. Oh no.

“At least you didn’t knock anything down,” Zexion said, disappearing back behind the shelf.

“You mean, other than my pride?” Demyx groaned as he righted himself and the step stool, glad he at least hadn’t injured himself. He went over to Zexion’s shelf. The entire section was filled with cook books, most of them sporting retro designs on the covers, though he mostly only saw their spines.

“I wasn’t aware you had any of that,” Zexion said. On his other side was a heavy, metal cart of books.

“Why do you always show up when I’m making a fool of myself?”  Demyx mumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against the side of the shelf.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

Frowning, Demyx watched Zexion take a book from the cart and place it on the shelf before noticing he was wearing a dark green apron with a nametag pinned to it.

“You work here?” he asked.

“What gave it away?” Zexion retorted, shelving another book.

Demyx decided to ignore that. “I thought you were a tutor, though.”

“It’s called having more than one job,” Zexion replied, pushing the cart further down. “But I wouldn’t expect you to know much about that, seeing as you can hardly handle having one.”

“So you _do_ remember me,” Demyx said, eyes narrowing. “And you can’t be rude to me, by the way. I’m a customer.”

“Oh, a hypocrite, are you?”

“At least I learned my lesson,” he mumbled, face growing pink around the edges, and glanced over the spines of several old cook books. Some of them looked to be as old as his grandparents. “So what’s your excuse?”

Halting his work, Zexion leveled Demyx with a steely look. He took a quick, exasperated breath. “Are you actually looking for books or are you just here to be a nuisance?”

“Why do you think I came here, to a book store?” Demyx huffed, gesturing around like it made his point more obvious. “Not like I knew you’d be here.”

“So, what is it?”

Demyx took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, smoothed it out as much as it allowed, and handed it over. “I need these for a Lit class. Do you know if you have any of them?”

Zexion grabbed the paper out of his hand and glanced over it. Then he stopped and glared at the paper like he wanted it to burn up. He clicked his tongue. “We probably have this one,” he finally said, pointing to it on the list, “but you’re probably better off just looking online.” With that, he pressed the note to Demyx’s chest, pushing him away.

“Yeah, okay.” Demyx sighed, taking the paper back, and returned to looking at the signs above the shelves. What was this guy’s problem, anyway? Like, did he ever get tired of being antagonistic all the time?

Making sure to remember the step stool, Demyx finally stopped in front of the fiction section, quite a ways in so he was face to face with last names starting with G. He scanned the shelves from there. It probably would have been a good idea to just order online, but he forgot about textbooks entirely until he’d rolled his suitcase back into his dorm room. Such was life.

Thankfully, the book was there. Relieved he had one less book to look up, Demyx took it and immediately started flipping through the pages. When he saw several dog-eared pages with scribbled notes in the margins, he did a silent fist pump.

The counter was tucked away in a nook by the front of the store, surrounded on all sides by books and knick-knacks. A small chalkboard hung on the wall next to it that read, “Dinosaurs didn’t read. Now they’re extinct. Coincidence?” A bell sat on top of the counter, which Demyx slammed his hand down on repeatedly until Zexion groaned and emerged from the shelves.

“Ring me up,” Demyx demanded, still ringing.

Zexion glowered at him. “Stop that before I call the cops,” he said, swinging around the counter to the register.

“I’m just an ordinary paying customer, ringing a bell,” Demyx said. “Nothing to involve the police with.”

Zexion grabbed the bell in-between rings and hid it under the counter, so Demyx kept himself busy looking through a small box of bookmarks in front of the register. Some of them were scratch-n-sniff. Finally, the book was paid for, and Demyx walked back through the door, his free hand reaching up in a backwards wave.

“Later, asshole.”

If he’d looked back just one last time before the door closed, he would have seen Zexion sneering.

 

* * *

 

Syllabus week came too soon. Demyx found himself staring at the tiles of his dorm room’s drop ceiling with bleary eyes. The pale-blue Monday morning light that peered through the window between his and Axel’s beds seemed too soft, and his bed too warm. The world at this hour was entirely silent, especially in the dead of winter when there were no birds tittering in the tree below his window to wake up to. Thankfully, the alarm on his phone (the Monkey Island theme song) hadn’t startled his roommate awake, who got to sleep in until eleven. Stupid art majors, all their classes were in the afternoon.

Last year, Demyx had promised himself no more early morning classes. The only problem with that was that 7:45 AM was the only time slot available for this particular math class. His only solace was that he didn’t have any other classes until after lunch, which gave him time to pass out once math was over.

It wasn’t like syllabus week was hard or anything. In fact, all he really had to do was show up. But it was a sign of things to come, as well as a way to find out if any classes needed to be dropped or if he knew anyone in class that could make the next semester a little easier. Math went by in all of thirty minutes, and when Demyx slammed face-first into his pillow after kicking off his vans, he was blissfully dead to the world until he woke up to the sound of Axel’s hair dryer echoing off the walls of their tiny, shared bathroom.

The hairdryer abruptly turned off, and Axel padded out moments later clad only in jeans. He made his way over to his dresser to rifle through a drawer, muttering to himself until he glanced up and caught eyes with Demyx.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” he drawled, finally deciding on a shirt and shoving it on. Not that it mattered much, since it would be covered by more layers anyway.

“Muh,” Demyx replied. He closed his crusty eyes. It was too bright right now.

“I’m meeting Rox and Xion at the caf in a bit,” Axel said over his shoulder, heading back into the bathroom. “You wanna come with?”

“Define ‘a bit’,” Demyx said. He turned onto his back, preparing to eventually get up for real. Anyway, he knew Axel was going to spend about a hundred years putting all that shit in his hair, but at least that gave himself some time to mourn having to get out of bed. More importantly, it gave him time to mentally form a list of infinitesimal tasks he had to do in order to get up. First was turning onto his back, check. Next, deep breath. Eventually he would sit up, take a drink of water from the bottle on his side table, and onward.

“I dunno, like, fifteen minutes maybe?” Axel posited. “I’m thinking of taking a break from gel, so.”

Demyx sat straight up. “You’re kidding me.”

Axel leaned out the door so Demyx could see that, indeed, he was in the middle of weaving his hair into a single, long braid. He quirked his eyebrows up as if his expression said everything and then disappeared back into the bathroom.

“You aren’t still mad about me calling you Knuckles before, are you?” Demyx asked, tucking in his legs to sit criss-cross-applesauce.

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Demyx found himself grinning. “Just make sure you don’t do pigtails, because then you’ll look like Pippi Longstocking.”

Axel leaned out the door again, in the middle of securing the braid with a hair tie. He narrowed his eyes. The hair tie gave a _snap_. “Say another word and you’re eating alone, punk.”

Resting his elbow on his knee, Demyx leaned his face into the heel of his palm and looked up at Axel. He flashed an innocent smile.

“Wendy.”

“You’re dead to me,” Axel said, jamming an accusatory finger in Demyx’s direction. He slammed the bathroom door shut as Demyx sputtered and burst into laughter, falling backward. He knocked the back of his head against the wall.

“Ow, shit!”

Axel swung the door open again, sputtering and gripping his stomach, struggling to breathe. “Was that you?” he wheezed. “I fucking heard that!”

This got Demyx rolling into laughter all over again, despite the dull, throbbing pain now at the back of his skull. He clutched the back of his head, tears forming in his eyes from laughing, though now his stomach was starting to hurt too. Axel fell onto his knees, doubled over and cackling.

Finally, Axel got back up on his feet, panting. “Okay, it’s almost time to go,” he said. His face was still spread out in a grin. “Get ready.” When he turned back to face the bathroom mirror, Demyx heard him mutter, “Aw fuck, I have to re-do my eyeliner.”

It was shit like this that made Demyx glad the roommate lottery had fallen in his favor. It was shit like this that made those lists of increasingly smaller tasks not so important. He forgot what step he was even on, so he just got up.

The wind outside was only slightly less biting than it had been earlier, no longer accompanied by the hazy mist of morning. It certainly wasn’t sunny by any means; Hollow Bastion was never known for particularly nice weather. It rained all year round until summer, when a never-ending beam of dry heat beat down until everything turned from lush green to brown. Demyx often missed the warm beaches of Atlantica, but he chose to go to school as far away as possible from home, and this was what he got.

In the cafeteria, Demyx had his ID scanned before stretching his neck around to look at the line. Fortunately, it wasn’t that long yet. In fact, there was a longer line at the sandwich station, which only made him apprehensive about whatever was for lunch today. He searched the tables for Roxas and Xion, but they were nowhere to be seen. Well, that was okay. He’d just get his lunch and find them later.

After getting his lunch, Demyx stood in front of the desserts, piling chocolate chip cookies onto his plate. Axel swooped in, peering at the stack of cookies on Demyx’s plate.

“We’re in the back,” he said.

“Cool,” Demyx said.

Roxas and Xion sat at a round table in the back of the cafeteria, behind a set of pillars that separated the main room off from a smaller section of tables. Roxas absently ate a slice of pizza while staring at his phone in his other hand, and Xion had her 3DS in her face, plate abandoned.

“Sup,” Demyx said, sitting down with his food. Axel dragged a chair over from another table, placed it in between Roxas and Xion, and sat down.

“Hey, dude,” Roxas replied. He finally looked up from his phone to smile wryly at Axel, who was trying to find an acceptable position for his string bean legs. “How you been, Dem?”

“I’m all mathed out and it’s only been a day,” Demyx sighed, poking around his food with a fork. “I can’t believe I still have to do another one of these next semester.”

“Can’t relate,” said Axel. Demyx made a face at him.

“Not helpful,” Roxas said, elbowing Axel in the side. Axel winced and rubbed his sore ribs.

“I got Women’s Lit after lunch so, I dunno,” Demyx mumbled. “Maybe that’ll be interesting.”

“Ooh, Lit?” Roxas grinned. “Our Demyx, taking a Literature class?”

“Gotta get that Gen Ed out of the way. Y’know, break up the boring science stuff,” Demyx said.

“If the science stuff is so boring, why are you even in STEM?” Roxas asked.                    

Demyx paused, frowning. He looked up at the TV mounted to the wall. The news was on, but without sound in a noisy room, he couldn’t tell what was going on. “I dunno,” he confessed. “I like the like, theory of it. I like the ocean and working with animals.” He sighed. “Maybe there’s some way I can like, make it click, but the science stuff just goes way over my head.”

Nodding, Roxas reached over to give him a pat on the shoulder.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he said. “You still have two more years to really think about what you want to do. Who knows what could happen in that time.”

Demyx hummed.

Just then, Xion snapped her 3DS shut and slid it across the table before throwing her head in her hands.

“You lose again?” Roxas asked flatly. He took a sip of his drink.

“Thirteen times,” Xion groaned, voice muffled. “Thirteen times, and I still can’t beat this boss.” She slumped onto the table with a sigh.

“Fourteenth time’s the charm,” Axel said.

“I think I just need to take a break,” Xion said. She looked up, flashing a half smile toward Demyx—her first acknowledgement of him since he sat down.

“Maybe you need an intervention,” Axel said. “An ice cream intervention.” Xion snorted, covering her face with her hand.

“Please, that was _one time_!” Roxas interjected, throwing his hands in the air. The other two burst into laughter. Roxas sat there, face flushed, but still barely able to keep a smile from spreading.

Demyx watched the three of them, chewing slowly on his food. He arched an eyebrow.

“Oh, sorry, Dem, that was an inside joke,” Axel said, still grinning.

Demyx smiled tightly.

“Basically it was…” Axel began, but stopped. He snorted and smacked himself in the face. “No, no, you had to have been there.”

“It’s okay,” Demyx said.

From what he’d heard, the three of them all had all gone to high school together. In times like this their history was evident, spread out clearly on the table like their plates and cups, their silverware. Demyx could never encroach on a friendship like that. After all, he’d only met them last year. Maybe it really was something you had to be there for. There was no clear way to weave himself into their story.

Someone had changed the channel on the TV to some soccer game. Demyx gazed at it for a minute, nibbling on a cookie.

“I’m gonna head out,” he finally said, standing. He shouldered his backpack. “Got class in a few.”

He didn’t really. Class wasn’t for at least another forty-five minutes.

“See you at dinner,” Roxas said, waving goodbye.

Demyx dropped his dishes off at the bussing station before heading upstairs. The floor above the cafeteria featured a large sitting area, as well as the mailroom and a snack bar that was only open at night. Demyx found his mailbox and opened it, though he knew there wouldn’t be anything in it on the first day of school. It was more of a habit at this point than anything.

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, looking up at the numbers bordering the upper edges of the mailroom walls. Every year, the graduating class got a wooden cut-out of their graduating year, which they scribbled all over with signatures, and the number was mounted in the mailroom. It was a tradition only a small school like Hollow Bastion could have.  Demyx swept his eyes over all the colorful names of people he had never met and hummed before heading out, pulling headphones out of his bag.

When Demyx arrived for his Lit class, he peered through the little rectangular window in the door and found that the previous class had yet to be let out. He glanced down at his phone. Still a half hour to go. He sat, back against the wall, until the door opened and everyone rushed out. The classroom was one of the bigger ones, a lecture hall built to seat around a hundred people, though he knew the class would only fill a fraction of the seats. He picked a seat somewhere in the middle and propped his feet up on the back of the seat in front of him.

After around fifteen minutes, people started to file in. So far, no one he recognized, but that didn’t surprise him. He was probably the only Marine Bio major in the class. A tall, slim woman with blue hair walked in and began writing on the board, the chalk clacking on the chalkboard. This was one of the few classrooms that hadn’t switched to whiteboards yet.

Then, three minutes before class, as Demyx was taking his feet down from the chair and the headphones from his ears, the door swung open and there was Zexion. They locked eyes immediately and Demyx’s stomach sank. Zexion’s look was so intense, Demyx was afraid he was going to die just from being in his radius. He just stood there for a moment, then marched up the steps to sit somewhere behind Demyx, all the while straightening his wind-blown bangs and breathing heavily. Demyx did not dare turn around to see where he sat.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” said the blue-haired woman. She gestured to the board, then took a pile of papers from inside a folder on the desk at the front of the room and started passing them out. “I’m your professor for Women in Literature. Please, just call me Aqua. Before we go over the syllabus, let’s start with some icebreakers.”

The entire room collectively sighed. Aqua smiled.

“Let’s go around, starting from the front. Everyone introduce yourselves by saying your name, your year and major, and a fact about you.”

As the other reluctant students in front of him started talking, Demyx fussed with the edge of his sleeve and tried to think of a good fact about himself. The thing about icebreakers was that nobody liked them, and yet professors and teachers everywhere still insisted on at least some form or another. For just five short seconds, everyone would be looking at him, or maybe they wouldn’t. He just had to remind himself that everyone else had to go through this too. He quietly cleared his throat to make sure his voice wouldn’t crack, and finally, it got to him.

“Uh, I’m Demyx. I’m a sophomore Marine Bio major, and I can play five different instruments.”

He could feel his face heating up and his chest tightening, but all that happened was Aqua saying “Oh, that’s great!” before moving on to the next person. With the attention being away from him, he allowed himself to breathe.

A minute later, Zexion spoke. Demyx finally brought himself to turn around and look at him. Zexion still looked a bit frazzled, but mostly put together. Despite it only being an intro and syllabus day, Zexion had all his things placed neatly in front of him on the little fold-out desk attached to the seat.

“My name is Zexion Wise. Sophomore. I’m a Psych major, and I collect vinyls.”

Demyx found himself making a face. Of course the fact he gave was the only thing Demyx already knew about him. Once everyone in the room had a turn speaking, Aqua cleared her throat. “Now, let’s go over the syllabus. I’ve passed it around, so everyone should have a copy.”

As she continued to talk, Demyx skimmed through ahead. For some reason she was expecting him to read a hundred pages a night on top of all the homework he had to do for his other classes. Then his eyes fell on two words: _partner project_. He looked up in horror.

“There will be a project due the week after spring break,” Aqua explained, leaning against her desk. “You and a partner will work together on a ten-minute presentation about one of the women we’ll be covering in this class, looking deeper into her work. You don’t have to get started now, but it might be a good idea to figure out who you want to pair up with. We’ll discuss the project in more detail later on. If there are no questions, class is dismissed.”

Demyx gulped. This class was going to be much harder than he anticipated. He glanced around the room and saw people talking amongst themselves, already pairing up. And of course, because he didn’t know anyone, he had no one to do the project with.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned around. Zexion sat in his spot several rows behind him, frowning and completely alone. At that moment, he glanced up and caught Demyx’s eyes. Oh no. Demyx looked away, facing the front of the room, and played with his sleeve again. He looked around, only seeing how everyone else already had a partner or was leaving. He gritted his teeth and turned back to Zexion, plastering on a big grin.

“Hey,” he said stiffly.

“Hey,” Zexion echoed. He narrowed his eyes at him, spinning a pencil between his fingers.

“So, I don’t know if you noticed, but it looks like everyone else already has a partner, which just leaves you and me,” Demyx said. “Since we don’t really have much of a choice, would you be my partner?”

Zexion glowered at him. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he said. “As you said, we have no choice.”

Although Demyx heaved a sigh of relief, glad he had a partner he knew wasn’t going to make him do all the work, he was still not exactly pleased with who he’d gotten. He _had_ been thinking a little bit about dropping the class, but now that he’d gotten himself a partner he knew Zexion would only hate him ten times as much if he really did drop it.

“I have a couple conditions about our project, though,” Zexion said. Demyx groaned.

“Of course you do,” he said.

“First, I need to schedule our work sessions, so please give me your schedule next time,” Zexion said. He started to put his things away. “Secondly, if you even so much as think about slacking off, I know a man that’s 6’7” who’s built like a mountain, so don’t try anything.”

“O-oh,” Demyx mumbled. “Of course not.”

Zexion just looked at him for a few seconds. He sniffed and pulled on a black knit hat with ear flaps. “Good. I hope this arrangement works out. See you on Wednesday.”

And like that, he folded away his little desk, picked up his bag, and hurried out the door. Demyx sat there staring at the open doorway, mouth agape. Was he just threatened? This guy, who was like a yappy dog, was going to sic his giant mastiff of a friend on him if he didn’t do his work.

Okay. Good to know.


	3. out of grace and reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! sorry for taking so long with this chapter :/ ive been focusing a lot more lately on my original story & im also working on a zemyx oneshot for the kh supernova !! i hope u like it when it comes out later this year :')
> 
> as always, this is not beta'd, so if you notice anything that doesnt make sense or is worded wrongly, please let me know. any comments & kudos are super appreciated!! even just reading my work makes me very happy

“I swear I’ve never seen a larger man in my entire life,” Axel said, waving his hand around. “Do you know what it’s like to feel so tiny next to someone like that?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Roxas replied, voice flat.  His hair was hidden under a beanie, this time a red one.

Demyx leaned against the pick-up counter at the on-campus café, arms folded. While they often ate lunch at the cafeteria, sometimes it was nice to stop by the café, which not only had sandwiches made from more than just deli meat and American cheese, but also coffee that was just slightly better than the caf’s. In fact, they had lattes at the café, and hot chocolate, and little breakfast pastries that he often ate even when it was well past breakfast time. On a good day that was about all Demyx needed to make the decision of where to eat lunch. On a bad day, aka during hours when the café wasn’t open, he’d settle for second best.

The café stood in a large, open room in the center of the ground floor of the main building, dubbed Kingdom Hall, in which roughly half the classes took place. Through a door on the café end of the room were mostly staff offices and a single random piano, and connected on the other side was the library. Demyx had not stepped foot in there since finals weekend last semester. The walls on all sides of the room were made up of tall sheets of glass, all wall-length windows that made it unbearably hot in the summer but comfortably warm in the winter. Thankfully, Demyx wasn’t here in the summer.

While the café took up only a portion of the room, the entire rest of the area was chairs and stiff, scratchy couches, places to study or to eat, and a mostly-bare expanse of floor in the middle. Sometimes the middle of the room housed a blood drive or a science fair or simply just acted as storage space. At that moment in time, it held stacks of plastic tables and not much else.

Demyx had been staring out the window, but now he was at full attention, his eyebrows stitching together. “Uh, wait, who are we talking about?”

“Some dude in my figure drawing class,” Axel replied, pushing off the counter. “Never seen him ‘round campus before, but suddenly this giant of a guy walks in. Didn’t talk all class ‘cept to say ‘here’ during roll call.”

Demyx hummed. “Would you say he was built like a mountain?”

Axel looked at him, head cocked to the side. “Uh, I guess so,” he said, one thin eyebrow raised. “You actually know this guy?”

“Um… not _technically_ ,” Demyx said with a shrug. “But if it’s the guy I’m thinking of, we have a… mutual acquaintance.”

A barista approached the counter with a foil-wrapped sandwich, red-rimmed eyes squinting at the label on it. They placed it on the counter. “Alex!” they called out, then sighed and went to work on another sandwich.

Huffing, Axel grabbed the sandwich and peered down at the label as Roxas looked on in rapt silence. “Did they get my freaking name wrong again?” Lo and behold, the label did not lie. He groaned. “I swear to god, they gotta get my name in the system fixed.”

“Rest in pieces,” Demyx said as Roxas doubled over in laughter.

“F,” he choked.

Axel sneered. “Yeah, yeah,” he said.

The rest of their food came out, and the three sat at a tall table in the corner—one of the few that was out of the sun’s rays. Demyx’s and Roxas’ feet dangled off their chairs. Axel could reach the ground just fine.

“So who is this…’acquaintance’ you mentioned?” Axel said, halfway through his sandwich already. His words were muffled by food. “I think it’s high time they meet the family.”

Demyx placed his food down and narrowly avoided wiping his hands on his jeans. Instead he reached for a napkin. “Uh, well it’s kind of a funny story…”

“I love funny stories,” Axel replied. “Regale me.”

Demyx looked to Roxas for some kind of guidance, some word of advice a veteran of Axel-wrangling could supply. Instead Roxas just waited, taking a long sip from a water bottle. Other students filed past, on their way to be early to class or get to some professor’s office hours.

“Okay, so uh,” Demyx began. He resisted the urge to tug on his sleeve. Axel already knew about that tic. “Do you remember last semester, we went to Minnie’s?”

Axel nodded. “Yes, I believe we go to Minnie’s all the time. So?”

“Well, yeah, but do you remember,” he swallowed, “we went to get pancakes in the middle of the night, and there was no one there but this guy with blue hair?”

Axel narrowed his eyes at him. If Demyx listened hard, he could have sworn he heard the cogs in Axel’s brain turning, trying to recall the memory of that night. A tiny Axel on a mouse’s wheel, perpetually running towards a piece of cheese dangling on a string.

“...The sexy blue hair guy?”

Demyx nodded slowly. He didn’t quite approve of that particular modifier.

All at once, Axel jumped up and almost knocked into Roxas with his elbow. “Wh—hey!” Roxas protested.

 “You didn’t…!” Axel shouted. “Demyx, you old card!”

Demyx’s hands shot up in front of himself. “W-wait, I didn’t even say anything yet!”

“You don’t have to!” Axel grinned down at him. “I always believed in you, y’know? Like a son.”

“We’re the same age.”

“Sit down, weirdo,” Roxas urged. “You’re making a scene.”

“So, how is it going with him?” Axel said, sitting back down and threading his fingers together. “Gotten anywhere?”

“I… don’t think we’re on the same page here,” Demyx murmured. “He’s just my partner in—“

“See, this is why you should never turn down the ultimate wingman,” Axel said. “I’m a good luck charm.”

“Can you let me finish?” Demyx asked.

 “Okay, okay, fine,” Axel relented. “Don’t mind me. Continue your tale.”

“I was _going_ to say, he’s just my partner for a project in lit,” Demyx said, and heaved a sigh. “The guy hates me though, so I don’t know what you’re even talking about.”

“Why does he hate you?” Roxas asked. “What did you even do? Wait, wait, blue hair…”

“Uh.”

“Is that the tutor guy you yelled at?”

Axel looked almost delighted. “You yelled at him?” He propped his chin up on the heels of his hands to listen.

Demyx’s face went hot. “Okay, maybe I overreacted back then, but he pretended not to know who I was just to fuck with me. Anyway, can we be done with this now? Can I eat my lunch?”

“I have a feeling you’re leaving out some important information,” Axel said.

“Uh, well…” Demyx felt his color deepen. “Okay, maybe he came to the store. But he insulted me out of the blue and then left.”

“Okay, and how does he know the guy in my figure drawing class?” Axel asked.

“I don’t know, but he threatened to get that guy to beat me up if I don’t do my part of the project.”

“Demyx,” Axel said. He reached over to put a hand on Demyx’s shoulder. If he could have a single tear rolling down his cheek, he would. “I don’t want you to die, so please do that project.”

“Definitely not planning on dying, so, you got it, buddy.”

In the corner of his eye, Demyx caught a smudge of blue. When he turned to look, there was Zexion, wrapped snugly in a pea coat and that black ear-flap hat, walking briskly into the building. Every breath he let out was like a puff of smoke. A fire-breathing dragon. Demyx averted his eyes.

“Can we please, please stop talking about this now?” he groaned, picking his forgotten sandwich back up. He begged whatever higher power there may be that his friends did not follow his eyes. “Uh, where’s Xion today?”

Axel heaved a heavy sigh. “She doesn’t want to hang out with her best buddies anymore,” he crooned, folding his hands together. “These days it’s always Naminé this, Naminé that. Axel, Roxas, look at this hat Naminé crocheted for me, isn’t it cute? I love her soooo much!”

Demyx smiled. “That sounds really nice.”

“Yeah,” Axel said. “I’m happy for them but, y’know, gets a little lonely.”

“I mean… you can still all hang out,” Demyx supplied. “You do know that, right? Everybody always comes to our room anyway.”

“Yeah,” Axel said again. “Guess for now it’ll just be us hashtag boyz.”

Roxas scrunched his face at Axel in confusion and repulsion. “Did you just say that out loud? With your mouth?”

“No, with my foot,” Axel replied. He smiled, satisfied, like he thought he just said the smartest thing in the world.

“Your foot’s too far away to be heard,” Roxas said blandly.

Demyx tried very hard not to snort at that as Axel threw his hands in the air in mock indignation.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Axel all but exclaimed, gesturing to Roxas, who rolled his eyes and tried to suppress a smile.

“Axel,” Demyx choked out. He covered his mouth to stifle his laughter as he glanced around the room. “Be quiet!”

Axel snorted. “Alright, I will, but only because I’m an upstanding citizen.”

“You wish,” Roxas scoffed. He reached over to swipe Axel’s drink and take a sip.

“Hey! I need that chocolate milk,” Axel complained. “I’m a growing boy.”

Roxas put the cap back on. “You don’t need to grow anymore. And anyway, maybe check the time, smartass.”

Demyx jumped off his chair and checked his phone. Almost time for class. That made sense; it was probably where Zexion was headed. Not like he had many other places to go outside of work, perhaps. He probably didn’t do anything else, just sat in class or worked for fun. Did he even have any friends?

“Fine, keep it. I don’t want your backwash anyway, nasty,” Axel was saying, though Demyx wasn’t paying attention to them anymore.

“I don’t backwash,” Roxas replied.

Demyx glanced out the window again, where he had seen Zexion only a couple minutes ago. They’d both been going to this school for almost two years, and had never once seen each other beyond a few months ago, but had Demyx ever once seen him _with_ anyone else? And even then, maybe they had seen each other before then but never noticed it. But he had one friend, right? The giant guy. Demyx threw his backpack over one shoulder and mused over what kind of situation could have possibly brought Zexion and his friend together as he walked to class.

 But it was Tuesday, and Demyx didn’t have class with him on Tuesdays.

 

* * *

 

On Wednesday, Demyx stared at the dimly-lit ceiling tiles of his room in distain. Sure, he wasn’t looking forward to math, but at least in that class he didn’t have to do a project with a control freak who had threatened him with bodily harm. Usually he could bluff his way through without having to do too much work, or at least put it off until the last second, but with Zexion? He didn’t think he’d get that kind of luxury. He’d even asked him for a _schedule_ like kind of weirdo who micromanaged his day to the very last second. It was responsible, Demyx could give him that, but it also spelled out one thing in bold detail: no fun allowed.

But he’d done what he was told. On the back of a piece of scrap paper he scrawled his classes and the hours, as well as his shifts at work. Take _that,_ Little Boy Blue.

Demyx shoved the schedule into the pocket of his coat for easy access and shouldered his backpack. He double checked to make sure he hadn’t woken Axel up. The big lug was still snoozing under his pile of a million blankets.

After lunch, he stared at the open door to Women’s Lit like it was the gaping maw of a beast.  If he was being honest, he was really looking forward to this class, at least initially. He hadn’t gotten to read very much by women in high school, mainly boring words by old men who wrote bland sentences about other, fictional old men. While he had never been the biggest bookworm ever, or at all, it had beaten any potential love of reading out of him. But women could be trusted, or at least could be trusted more than men.

Someone cleared their throat right next to him. Oh, right, he was standing in front of the door. Demyx backed up a step and turned toward the noise, then stopped. Zexion stood there, watching him with his one exposed eye, face perfectly unreadable. He was wearing his black ear-flap hat and a long, dark gray skirt. His cheeks were still dusted pink from the cold.

“Hello, Demyx,” he said, and breezily slipped past him into the room. Demyx watched how the skirt swayed around his winter boots. He followed him in.

Zexion placed himself at his seat from the other day, taking off his hat and coat and draping them over the seat next to him. Demyx stood several rows down, shifting from one foot to the other until Zexion finally looked up.

“Did you bring your schedule today?” he asked, hands on his hips.

“Uh, yes, I did,” Demyx replied. He stepped forward, reaching into his coat to pull out the crumpled paper, and handed it to Zexion.

Zexion looked at it warily, but took it, his mouth pressed into a line. He unfurled the paper and squinted down at Demyx’s scribblings. Then he turned the paper over.

“Is this a lab print-out?” he asked.

“I dunno.”

Zexion gave him a lengthy look before neatly folding the paper with a sigh. He reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a planner, tucking Demyx’s schedule into the pages.

“I’ll work out the schedule later and let you know next week when we’ll be meeting,” Zexion said, placing the planner back into his bag. “While the presentation isn’t due for a couple months, I see no reason why we shouldn’t at least start thinking about who to cover as soon as possible.”

Demyx let out a groan, which only prompted Zexion to roll his eyes.

“Yes, I know, doing the work you paid money to do is _so boring_ ,” Zexion cooed.

“We haven’t even gone over the project in class yet!” Demyx said. “It’s only the second day of class, I think we can stand to wait a little bit.”

“And what do you plan to do while you wait?” Zexion countered, crossing his arms. Standing several steps up and looking down his nose at him, he struck an imposing figure for someone so petite. “Sit around with your feet up until the week the assignment is due? Turn in something nonsensical like that awful Chem paper?”

“Hey, I think you’re going a little far,” Demyx said. “I’m just saying it’s no use to start now when we barely know anything about the assignment in the first place. It’s nice to set up who you’re gonna work with, but it’s still only day two. We’ve got _weeks_.”

“And _I’m_ just saying, based on what I’ve seen from you already, you can’t be trusted with your _own_ work, let alone work that affects other people’s grades, too.”

“I—“

Suddenly, Demyx became very aware that the classroom was not empty. It wasn’t empty when they got there, but now more people were filing into the room, giving the two a wide berth. He felt their stares in the pit of his stomach. Demyx felt his hand twitch for the sleeve of his coat. He cleared his throat.

“H-hey, could we maybe save this argument for later, somewhere else,” he suggested, offering a small, tight smile. “Like, somewhere a little less public?”

Zexion raised a brow at him, or maybe both, Demyx couldn’t really tell, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he conceded. “I’ll give you the schedule on Monday. Don’t talk to me until then; I don’t want to catch whatever it is you have.”

“Whatever I have?” Demyx muttered. He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Wait—hey!”

But Zexion was already sitting down with his little desk folded out, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. The conversation was clearly over. Demyx shuffled over to his own seat and slumped into it with a huff and a scowl. He fumed, arms crossed as he waited for the professor to arrive. He hadn’t even taken his coat off yet, or his backpack, which pressed uncomfortably into his spine. It took all of his self control to not slam it onto the ground. This was going to be a very, very long semester.

Eventually Aqua arrived and led the class through a lecture on the first reading of the semester, which Demyx had managed to skim the night before. It was about a woman who had written the first known autobiography, and who was known to throw herself at the ground in tears whenever she felt any emotion stronger than mild tranquility. Demyx honestly wanted to do the same.

* * *

 

Over the course of the week, Demyx did everything in his power to avoid interacting with Zexion. Never stepping foot in the library had its merits, apparently, as he managed to usually avoid running into him. However, there seemed to be a strange phenomenon in college where you never see people even once, and then after you meet them they suddenly appear everywhere. Up until last semester, Demyx had never seen Zexion before, despite them both going to Hollow Bastion University at the same time. Then, like magic, _poof!_ Zexion and his stupid hair were everywhere. Or at least in common areas around the school: walking through the quad, getting a drink at the café, in the hallway between classes. And either Zexion didn’t see him, or he was just very good at ignoring him.

Friday went mostly fine. Demyx ignored Zexion when he walked into class. He glanced over once, maybe twice. Ignoring people on purpose was kind of hard, especially when you’re so aware of them.

“What a pain in the ass,” he muttered to himself. He walked down the hall of the second floor D wing of Kingdom Hall, home of the STEM professor’s offices, having just had a very complicated conversation with his advisor after class.

“If you’re going to change your major, figure it out soon,” his advisor had said. “You know that you should be declared by the end of sophomore year. The clock is ticking, Demyx.”

Three and a half months. He had until then to decide. Demyx scrubbed his face with his hand and groaned. In his other hand he held a major declaration form, blank.

 He pushed out through the double doors at the end of the hall hip-first, and stopped. At the center of each floor was a sitting area with several uncomfortable wooden chairs at square tables, a couple of plastic plants in the corners, and a vending machine. At one of the tables sat Zexion, coat slung over the back of the chair and a textbook open in front of him. Beside him, leaning on the table and craned over to see what was on the pages, stood Vexen, long hair tied up in a bun.

Zexion looked up, feeling Demyx’s gaze on him, and then briefly grimaced before bringing his attention back down. Vexen followed his line of sight, eyebrows scrunched together. Demyx took this as his cue to leave, and as he marched down the hall towards the stairwell, he heard a quickly-fading exchange.

“Mind telling me what that was about?” Vexen asked, and when Zexion didn’t answer, sighed. “Honestly, I can’t leave you alone for a second. You make enemies the second my back is turned.”

Zexion scoffed, and that was all Demyx heard before he reached the door. Then all he heard was the ambient sounds of the stairwell—the echo of footsteps, muffled voices from other floors, and the faraway ding of an elevator.

His Kelly-green converse carried him all the way back to the dorm. Inside, Axel sat curled up in his desk chair, a knot of limbs in front of his computer. Roxas was stretched out on Axel’s bed like a cat, enveloped by so many pillows and blankets that barely any of him could be seen other than his socked feet and a flash of blond.

“I just think that if we’re supposed to do it that way, wouldn’t she have said so in class or put it in the syllabus?” Axel was saying. He barely looked up when Demyx walked in, too focused on his screen. “Hey, Dem.”

Demyx slapped his paper down on his desk to be lost among the junk. “Hey.”

Roxas only greeted him by throwing a hand up in the air. “I think she just wants you to be more like, creative with it,” he said. “Make it your own or something. It’s technically an art class, isn’t it?”

Demyx toed off his sneakers and let his bag drop to the floor. It hit the ground like a lead weight. He stared out the window absently, eyes catching briefly on the blinds.

“I guess, but this is an exercise in technique, so I should be using the technique. But like, ugh!” Axel rubbed at his eyes.

Demyx made his way over to bed, trampling clothes and food wrappers, and flopped down, letting out a soft, “oof!”

 “Technique can be applied in different ways.”

“Yeah, okay, please tell me all about art, Mr. Programmer, since you know so much.”

The conversation paused. Demyx briefly heard the sound of Axel’s bed shifting. He didn’t look up, but he was sure if he had he would’ve seen the two of them watching him. How wonderful.

“Uh, you okay, bud?” Axel asked.

“Mmf,” Demyx replied, face in his pillow.

“We’re going to Minnie’s for dinner later,” Roxas said. “Wanna come?”

Axel tapped his fingers on the desk, clearly in thought. “Hey—“ he began, but then Demyx jolted up.

“I’m getting an accordion,” he declared.

The other two stared at him.

“An… accordion?” Roxas asked, shifting to sit up properly on the bed as Demyx got up to unearth his laptop from under the monster of stuff on his desk and bring it back over to his bed.

“You think they got any decent ones for cheap online?” Demyx mused, already typing wildly. “I don’t need a fancy one.”

In two long strides, Axel made his way over to Demyx’s side of the room and peered over his shoulder. Demyx was already scrolling through listings. “Whatever you do, please don’t let yourself get shivved in an alleyway by a stranger.”

“Pshh, who’s gonna shiv me over an accordion?” Demyx scoffed. His scrolling paused. “Not only would it evoke the wrath of our Lord and Savior, God of Accordions, Weird Al Yankovic, but it’s just a fucking accordion.”

“So, _why_ exactly are you suddenly buying an accordion?” Roxas asked. His feet dangled off the edge of Axel’s bed. Axel kept his bed so high up, Roxas needed to take a running start just to get onto it.

Demyx studied his screen, quickly clicking between tabs to compare two accordions. One was a completely metallic accordion with matte designs on it, and the other had a green and white diamond pattern on it. “So I can learn it,” he said simply.

That seemed to placate them for the time being, or maybe they just gave up trying to get any answers out of him. In all honesty, Demyx didn’t know where the idea came from, either. If he wanted to play an instrument, he already had his guitar propped up in his closet in its case, and there were pianos on campus. But something itched in his fingers—a need for something new.

This had happened a few times before. When Demyx was five years old his parents signed him up for piano lessons. For the first time, Demyx created something, even if it was just clumsy, discordant tinkling. Back then, his feet couldn’t even reach the pedals. Then, violin. He liked violin even better than piano; he liked the way he could see the vibrations of the strings clearer, the source so close to his ears. But his favorite by far was the sitar.

If he closed his eyes, Demyx could recall his grandparents’ house like he was still standing in the living room, surrounded on all sides by colorful antiques and the warm scent of cinnamon and clove. In the corner of the room sat his grandfather’s sitar, carefully maintained and nearly gleaming on its stand. It had traveled halfway across the world with them decades ago, when they were still young. Grandpa would sit on the floor with his legs crossed, sitar propped between his foot and knee, and play. When he was still little, Demyx would dance around the living room and clap to the beat, joyful, joyful, until the room spun and he’d fall to the floor panting, his pigtails splayed over the carpet. As he got older, he begged his grandpa to teach him. He could already play piano and violin. He was a fast learner. Grandpa relented—or rather, he seemed all too happy to pass it on, as long as Demyx promised to eat his vegetables.

Music was easy. It was one of the only things that really made _sense_ and Demyx found himself turning toward it more and more. So he didn’t feel too bad when he dropped more munny on an accordion than he made in one paycheck. His homework sat abandoned by his desk as he busied himself watching accordion videos until dinner, and then after dinner until it got dark.


End file.
